Tim Wynne-Jones - The Uninvited

“He told me once the miners have to strip and get hosed down before they leave the mine each day,” said Cramer.

“Uh-huh, I know.”

“It’s so the miners don’t get to take home even any gold dust.”

“I know, I know. What’s your point, Cramer?”

“Well, the only way he could get this out of the mine is by shoving it up his ass.”

Her fist closed around the nugget and she glared at him. “That is so gross,” she said. “I really don’t know what’s happened to you.”

He turned away and picked up the case of beer, now full of empties, and carried it over to the pile by the door.

“It may be gold, but it’s not a wedding ring, Mom,” he said.

She glared at him and there was a gleam in her eye that was just plain mean. “You been seeing your girlfriend?” she said.

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Come on, Cramer, fess up.”

He stared at her. There was something disturbing in her expression, as if she wasn’t just playing with him.

“You got something to tell your mama?” she said.

Cramer shook his head. “No,” he said. “I’ve got nothing to say to you anymore. So, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just go drown myself in the creek, which is what you should have done the moment I was born.”

Cramer waited only long enough to see it dawn on her face that he was quoting Waylin, then he turned and left.

She called to him from the door. “You were eavesdropping. That isn’t nice!”

He didn’t look back.

“And it isn’t funny, Cramer. Cramer?”

The yard light was on, but he walked right through its wide circle of illumination out past the drive shed to the lip of the hill and looked down over the creek.

“I know about her, Cramer,” his mother shouted. “You think I don’t know nothing, but you’re wrong.” Then she cackled again. “If you only knew,” she said.

He didn’t turn right away. When he did, she had gone back inside. He was tempted to go back and ask what she was talking about. Demand it. Shake it out of her. But he was afraid to go back, afraid that in his anger he might do something he would regret. So he stood there and dug deep inside, with what strength he had left after a day that had gone on for years, and found not one glimmering nugget of sympathy for her.

I know about her, Cramer.

He stood until even in the moonlessness he could make out the shape of the boulders and saplings that dotted the hill down to the creek. His mother must have followed him to the snye. That’s what she meant. That’s where she’d been going in the old canoe. It was the last straw. The very last straw.

He turned toward the panel truck. He tried the back doors. Locked. Good, that meant the cargo was still on board. She was low on her springs, heavy with contraband. What was it this time? He didn’t care. He tried the driver’s door. Unlocked. Good again.

Everything was suddenly going his way. What a change!

There were no keys, of course. But he didn’t really need keys. He let out the emergency brake and put the truck in neutral. Then he climbed out and went to the back of the big truck. He put his shoulder to it. Nothing. Not at first, but Cramer was patient and Cramer was strong. Stronger than anything. You could move a mountain if you were patient and strong. It was all about getting the thing rocking. Once you had the thing rocking, gravity would do the work for you. And he was strong not just from free weights and chin-ups and endless push-ups, but from years of paddling upstream. That’s what his life was, paddling upstream. He heaved and, despite his fatigue, soon enough the truck was moving and moving, and then, finally, it was out of his control.

Foolish of Waylin to park it like this on the lip of a hill, he thought. Cramer watched the truck smash down the slope, bouncing and swerving. He hoped no tree was big enough to stop it, hoped no boulder would catch a wheel and hold firm. What a noise it made, all its innards crashing around. And then finally- splash!

Gravity had finished his job for him, and the rest was up to the creek. It was sad, thought Cramer, that Butchard’s was only four or five feet deep. Then he turned away. There were other important things to do now. This was just the beginning.

It was unlikely anyone at the Lee household would check the mailbox on Sunday, but Mimi wasn’t the only one at the snye who made regular trips to the window to peer through the curtains out toward the bridge.

Monday dawned cool and overcast. There was a front moving in. Iris left for work before nine but promised to return that evening. Around noon Jay got a call from his mom. They had been trying to get high-speed Internet service at the Riverside Drive house now that there was finally a transmission tower in the area. Apparently, the man could do the hookup that afternoon sometime between two and five. Could he be there? Jay said he would. He wanted Mimi to come with him.

“Are you kidding?”

“No,” said Jay. “Leave Cramer a note or something; tell him we’ll be back this evening.” He laughed and shook his head. “How ironic. Leaving a thief a note.”

“We don’t know he’s a thief, but I don’t want to have that conversation again,” said Mimi. “I’m going to stay.” Jay looked annoyed. “I’ll be careful.”

Jay sat down. “Fine, then I’ll stay. But you can phone Lou and tell her why.”

Mimi growled. “That’s not fair. Trust me, will you, for God’s sake? I know this guy. I swear. There’s some kind of explanation. Go. Scoot!”

But Jay shook his head and looked away. “What I said yesterday about your choice of guys-that came out all wrong.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“All I meant was that when Lazar started acting out, getting scary, he caught you off-guard, right? You weren’t expecting it?”

Mimi nodded slowly. “I’m naive; is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“And the implication is I’m being naive about Cramer. How am I doing so far?”

“You’re right on the money.”

“Okay, I hear you. But you have to believe me when I say it’s not the same thing.” Jay opened his mouth to argue, then snapped it closed. He stood up and headed toward the door. “Aw, don’t go away angry,” said Mimi.

“Just go away?” said Jay. Mimi grinned and nodded. He didn’t look happy about it, but he had given in. He always did and she felt a bit guilty about it. He came over to her. “If anything happens to you, I’m going to be really pissed,” he said.

“That is so affectionate,” said Mimi, and went up on her toes to give him a kiss, right on the lips. It didn’t last long-wasn’t meant to. But it was still a bit unnerving. “I’ll be extra specially careful,” she said.

Because the weather looked so bad, he took her car. He hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes when Mimi heard an unmistakable noise out on the driveway.

Stooley Peters had pulled up in his rackety old half-ton. With her own car gone, she thought about locking the doors and pretending not to be there. But considering how quickly he arrived, she figured he must have seen Jay drive away alone. So she bolted down toward the snye, not wanting him to get anywhere near the house, only taking the time to throw on a baggy sweatshirt, which nicely hid her mace canister in its holster.

They met at the snye, she on her side, hoping he’d stay on his. He looked as if he had dressed to go to town. He was in clean denim jeans, a denim jacket, and a mostly white shirt. His hair was slicked down. More like a Sunday-come-calling getup, she thought, which, she had to admit, was better than covered in blood, but not a cheering thought. He didn’t have his dog with him. Mimi wasn’t sure that was a good thing. But what was a good thing was that he was wearing shoes, not rubber boots. If he wanted to ford the snye, he’d have to take the bridge and she’d just pull the plank, if she had to.